


The Way Station

by ledez_dreams



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: F/M, Post-I Want to Believe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledez_dreams/pseuds/ledez_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Planning for the Future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

2\. Giving Notice

Wiping sweat from the back of her neck, Scully changed out of her scrubs in the locker room, ignoring the chatter of the other hospital employees around her.  It had been a long day and she was looking forward to being home.  The slight headache from the night before had only abated in the last couple of hours of her work and she was grateful for the reprieve.

 _It doesn't make sense, Scully._   Mulder's words from the night before as they'd sat by the fire echoed back at her now.  Her business at the hospital wasn't quite finished.

She checked her watch,  _4:13._ Father Ybarra would probably still be at the hospital, and she knew she needed to speak to him sooner than later, she only had two more days of work.  She hurried to gather up her things and headed in the direction of his office.  The door was open just a crack, and she knocked softly before poking her head in the door.  He was alone.

"Father, can I have a moment of your time?"  She asked, stepping into the office.

"Dr. Scully, of course, come in, I was actually just thinking of you.  I was just reviewing the Fearon chart.  Christian seems to be doing very well.  He'll be transferred to rehab soon."  Father Ybarra was indeed looking through the thinned parts of the chart.  Closing the folder, he waved her in.

"Yes, I know.  He's doing well, better than I could have dreamed actually."  She had spoken to Christian and his parents this morning, and his recovery was nothing short of remarkable.  The last few weeks had been tense, and Scully had found herself obsessively logging on at all hours, even from home, to check Christian's bloodwork.  Today however, she had been hoping to avoid this topic.  Christian had indeed been a sore spot between her and the priest, and although she had believed in her work, she was sorry that it had affected their rapport.  Before this, they'd always had a good working relationship.

"You saved that boy's life, Dr. Scully.   _Dana_.  I hope you know I'm not so petty that I won't admit that I'm grateful your treatment went forward," Father Ybarra said gently, putting a hand on her arm.  "I thank God that it worked for Christian."  He looked at her a moment, making sure she was really paying attention before adding, "But it just as easily may not have.  And it doesn't mean it will work in the future."

Scully nodded calmly, understanding his point.  She refrained from explaining her reasons.  She didn't want to admit that her greatest fear had been that Christian's treatment would fail, didn't want to admit that despite this, she had known she had to try.  There was likely a limit to even Father Ybarra's faith, and she didn't think he would take kindly to her justifying medical decisions on the faith of a pedophile priest.  

Her gaze fell to the window behind the priest.  A light snow had started to fall and was clinging to the bare tree branches.  Christian Fearon's illness and subsequent recovery was a bookend of sorts to her time at Our Lady of Sorrows. It also had reawakened a part of her she had been denying for a long time now, her capacity to follow her faith and intuition, even if she had fought it all the way.  And it likely _would_ affect her work in the future, hopefully for the better.  She couldn't explain any of that to Father Ybarra now.  He may have been a priest, but he was also a hospital administrator.  He might not take kindly to this revelation and would likely be concerned about her taking big risks in the future.

"I sometimes think paediatrics is well suited to people without children," Father Ybarra continued on, after realizing she wasn't going to reply.  "People like you and me, we love children, but we can maintain a professional distance and that helps us to make the right decisions.  Parents need guidance in what they don't understand.  We can help them find their way, help them decide when to push forward through pain for the greater good.  We can give them that.  But it's also important for us to help them understand when it's time to give up the fight.  You are a great doctor Dana.  Skilled but also one of the most empathetic people I know, driven to help.  But I will not have prolonging of suffering at this hospital, that is not what our role is here."

 _Suited to people without children._ Scully stamped down an oh so familiar frustration at how poorly her colleagues understood her.  But she also knew it was her own fault, she dared to share so little of herself.  She took a deep breath and willed herself not to argue back.  It was all moot anyway with what her future really held.

"I understand that, Father.  But in any case, that's not why I'm here,"  She sighed after regaining her calm. "I actually came to talk to you about my vacation time starting Friday."  Father Ybarra, also clearly irritated, leaned back in his desk, and nodded, pushing his fingers together.

"Yes, I was glad when you requested this time.  Do you realize, you haven't taken any vacation time since you've started here Dana?  That was three years ago.  I'm glad you're getting away for a while."

"Thank you," Her lips formed a brief tight smile before falling back into a frown, dreading her next words.  "As you know I will be returning in a month.  But I feel I must inform you that I might not be returning for long.  It's quite likely that I will be leaving my position here within the next six months."

There, it was out.  She watched as surprise fell across the priest's face.  Whatever he had been expecting her to say, she knew this wasn't it.

"Dana, I know we've had some disagreements in the last weeks, but that's not to say your work isn't highly valued.  I'm not sure I've seen someone go from a resident to such a competent Physician in such a short time."  He gestured down at Christian Fearon's file.  "You do great work here, and you are very valued.  I don't want you to feel unwelcome here, I'm just trying to make sure you understand our philosophy of care at this hospital."

"It's not that," Scully interrupted him.  "I stand by my decision with the Fearons.  I would make it again, in that particular case, although I know I might not if circumstances had been different.  She let lie exactly what circumstances those had been.

"I love it here," She continued on.  "I owe so much to this place, to you for giving me a chance.  I learned so much here, challenged myself."  She looked away sadly.  "It's just time for me to move on."

Father Ybarra stared at her, as though searching her face for a clue to where all this was coming from.  Finally, he sat back in consternation.  "Well be that as it may, I think I do deserve some kind of an explanation."

Scully took a deep breath and tried to think of the best way forward.  She thought of the words she'd rehearsed earlier.

"I haven't really been very candid about my life outside of my work, with anyone here.  I haven't been free to for a long time.   The reason for that was because of someone I know, my… partner actually."  Trying to find the best word to describe her relationship with Mulder was always difficult.  Boyfriend?  Husband?  Partner was still the only word she had found that could really encompass all that their relationship was.

"Yes of course, Mr… Mulder?  Is that right?"  Father Ybarra asked after a moment.  Scully nodded, unable to keep a slight smile forming on her face.

"Yes, Mr. Mulder.  Fox Mulder."  Despite the subject matter, Scully felt a small victory in her heart that of all the things ahead of them, they no longer had to be in hiding.  Scully had very carefully avoided any discussion of Mulder in the past.  He'd only been to a handful of hospital functions throughout her tenure and always introduced with very vague references to her connection with him.  It was no surprise that Father Ybarra, who'd known her for three years wasn't even entirely sure of Mulder's name.  

"You know, Dana, It isn't our policy here to look into the personal lives of our health care workers.  "I see no reason you can't continue your work here and pursue, whatever goals that you and... Mr. Mulder may have for your future."  He finished awkwardly, looking away.  

Scully snorted.  He thought this was because they weren't married.  It was small wonder that the gossipy staff and priests made much of the assumption that the physician at their hospital was living in sin with a _man_.  She smiled inwardly.  How she wished it was as simple as that.

"You may have heard a rumour that I was approached by the FBI about a month ago, here in the hospital."  She switched her approach.  The priest's face confirmed her suspicion.

"There was something I couldn't tell you, couldn't tell anyone.  Mulder has been wanted by the FBI for the last six years."  Father Ybarra's eyes widened and he leaned forward with the beginnings of a disapproving frown on his face.

"Wanted?  On what kind of charges?"

"It doesn't matter," Scully heard the flatness in her voice, precluding all discussion of this topic. "What _does_ matter is that he was guilty of nothing.  The false charges were a means to get him away from his work, to discredit what he had learned."  She waved her hand, not wishing to go deeper into this.  "Anyway.  Mulder was consulted in a case last month.  Consultation that the FBI asked for.  Mulder has a… unique ability for making intuitive leaps, especially with cases that others find difficult.  And the FBI gave him a complete pardon in return.  He's free again, fully exonerated."

There was a long silence.  Scully heard the voices of staff in the hallway, headed home for the evening.

"Was this the Frankenstein case?  The one that's been in the news?" Father Ybarra asked finally.  Scully started in surprise that he knew.  There had been nothing of Mulder in the papers, and she had been very secretive about the files she had been examining during the case.

"It was," She said shortly.  He nodded, as though something now made sense to him.  She realized that she was confirming even more rumours that must have run the halls of the hospital in the last weeks.  The priest shook his head at this knowledge.

"I knew you were involved somehow, but could tell you didn't want to talk about it.  Horrible, unthinkable at that kind of evil in the world."  He whispered, shaking his head.

 _Father, you have no idea,_ Scully thought wryly.  Turning the subject back to her original intent, she went on.

"Now that Mulder is free to work again, it's quite possible he and I will be making a lot of changes in our lives.  Changes that will probably mean us moving to Washington D.C."

Father Ybarra thought about this.  He finally sighed and searched her face imploringly  "Dana, if you don't mind me saying so, it sounds like these are all changes that your… partner will be making.  I don't want to pry, and I'm glad for you and Mr. Mulder.  But I don't see why this has to uproot your life.  You've made a life for yourself here, you have colleagues, friends even, who care about you.  It sounds like you're leaving because of him." 

Scully meant to end the discussion there, make a pointed comment about the priest minding his own business.  He could draw whatever conclusions he wanted, it really shouldn't matter to her.  But something compelled her to continue. 

"Father, Mulder is my partner… in that way.  But it's more than that.  He was also my partner in the FBI.  I misled you when I came here.  I wasn't just a pathologist at Quantico.  I was a field agent.  And Mulder was my partner.  He was, and probably still is, one of the best profilers and investigators the FBI has ever had.  We worked together for almost ten years before we came here." _With the scars to prove it._

Father Ybarra's eyes widened.  She could see that this came as a surprise.  Her mind went back to the creative liberties she had taken when she had sought a residency at the hospital.  She had highlighted certain aspects of her previous life a lot more than others, and certainly made it sound like she had held much more of a medical role in the FBI.  She hurried on.  Now that she had begun talking, she couldn't seem to stop.  

"The work was dangerous.  The things we discovered… Well, it was part of the reason Mulder was discredited as a criminal, to hide those discoveries."  

"I have a son.   _We_ have a son, Mulder and I. William."  Tears welled up in her eyes at saying his name.  It was the strongest prayer she had.  She fought back the tears and felt the hitch in her voice.  "A son we had to give up.  To keep him safe from our work.  And now, we have a chance.  Maybe not see him again, not to get him back, but to make sure he stays safe."

"Dana…" Father Ybarra began, his hand returning to her arm.  She could hear the compassion in his voice, and it had the effect of bringing her back to awareness of where she was, and who she was talking to.  She rubbed at the tears still suspended in her eyes and pulled herself back together.  She took a long deep breath.  When she spoke again, she forced her voice to be calm and even.

"So you see Father Ybarra.  It isn't just Mulder's work that has to begin again.  It's mine too."

How long had it been since she had discussed any of this.  Years?  An eternity?  Even before Mulder's imprisonment, she hadn't spoken this candidly about him to anyone in years who hadn't already been involved.  Now she was confiding in someone she had at best a good working relationship with.  A relationship that had been decidedly frosty in the last weeks.

She was doing the exact opposite of what she had intended.  "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."  She said finally, at a loss.

Father Ybarra smiled. "Well, Dana, I  _am_ a priest.  Although I must be honest, I don't know the last time I was asked to participate in the sacrament of reconciliation." He smiled wryly, his words diffusing the situation.  Scully also recognized it as his way of telling her that what she spoke in this room wouldn't go beyond it.  Whatever happened, what she said here wasn't going to be part of her official reason for leaving.

"Thank you for listening," She said quietly.  She looked around his office, thinking of all the times she had been in here over the last three years.  And soon it would end.  "I just wanted to discuss this with you today so that I wouldn't blindside you when I get back."

"Well I appreciate that.  I can't say I understand half of what you told me, but I can tell this is important to you.  I appreciate you coming to me."  Father Ybarra said.  She gave him a small nod and rose, taking this as her cue to leave.

 "Dana," He stopped her before she exited his office.  She turned around expectantly.  "Have a good vacation.  Both of you.  Sounds like you need it even more than I had realized.  We'll talk more when you get back.  If you still feel you have to move one, we can discuss it then."

She nodded her thanks before shutting his door.  As she walked down the hallway, she felt melancholy, knowing that her days in these halls were coming to a close.  But she also had a growing sense of relief.  She walked into the parkade, hurrying through the snow to get to her car.

Scully turned her engine on, cranking up the heat as high as it would go.  She hurried to scrape the frost off of her windows before sinking gratefully into the seat of her car.  She smiled slightly before throwing her car into reverse.  Home.  Home to Mulder.


	2. Chapter 2

1\. The Way Station

They were bundled up in their coats, mittens and scarves, and had an unzipped old sleeping bag spread over them both. Their old second hand wooden bench was more than enough for two to stretch out comfortably on.  Fire blazed in their outdoor pit, lighting up the darkness.  

A few weeks away from spring, it was still well below zero, and Scully could see her breath in little puffs of smoke billowing around her, mixing with the smoke.  The neighbours probably would think they were crazy being out here this time of year, if they'd had neighbours.  But the world around them was silent, giving the illusion that they were the only two people on Earth.  This solitude was one of the things that drew her to this place, drew both of them. The trees that stretched past their backyard stood tall and dark, silhouettes against the clear sky.  The crescent moon and stars shone brightly by the million, the way stars only can when far away from the interfering city lights.  

Sometimes, she missed living in the city.  She didn't tonight.

Mulder refilled her wine glass, setting the bottle down beside them, half buried in the snow covered ground.  Scully smiled her thanks, taking a long sip, savouring the dry Malbec on her tongue.  An expensive wine, and it showed.  A small indulgence of Mulder's to celebrate his accounts being officially unfrozen.  She snuggled into him and stared into the fire, appreciating the moment.  In a few days they would be off together on a four week vacation in the Caribbean.  Scully was too excited for words at the prospect the first real vacation they had ever been on in their fifteen odd years together.  A new strange and wonderful adventure for them, when she had thought they'd seen it all.  Yet as excited as she was, tonight, Scully couldn't help looking backward instead of forward.

With her partner beside her, the cold on her face and the dark forest beyond them, Scully could almost forget that they were home in their own backyard.  She glanced at Mulder and the last years suddenly fell away.  She imagined now that they were on a case, similar to the many that had brought them into the elements.  Dark, cold and with nothing but each other to rely on for company and resourcefulness.  As usual, there would be some threat close by, only half understood but fully feared.  They'd be unprepared for being suddenly thrust into the wild, unsure if they would survive the morning.  They would wax philosophical with one another before taking turns sleeping while the other kept lookout.  And morning would come and they'd be safe another day.  

She smiled and wondered if anyone else on the planet could have possibly gone through half of what she had.  If anyone, other than the man next to her, would be able to recall sunken boats, psychedelic funghi, and alien ships in the Antarctic with fondness the way she did.  This had been her life, and part of her, a large part, had loved it, thrived on it.  She supposed that's why she was sitting here tonight, wishing away her home and domesticity.

Although, she thought wryly, opening her eyes again, the fire and wine did happen to be nice additions to her fantasy. Those cases hadn't necessarily been so fun at the time. Nostalgia in a nutshell. But knowing this didn't make the memories less sweet.

"It doesn't make sense, Scully." Mulder broke the silence that had enveloped them for the last little while.  Scully took her gaze off the fire and shook herself out of her reverie.  She tilted her head up to him, eyebrow raised in question to his out of the blue statement.  

"I've been thinking about it a lot in the last few weeks, about the case with Father Joe," Mulder answered her. "I've been thinking about why they wanted our help so bad."  

" _Your_  help, Mulder, they wanted you, not me." Scully interrupted to remind him of this.  Mulder waved his hand at this. _Po-tae-to, pa-tah-to._ The fire cast shadows against his moving hand.  

"You cracked the case for them," Scully added.  "You followed your intuition, the way you always do.  They _needed_ your help."

"I appreciate your faith in me, Scully, but look at the facts.  Was it really all that difficult?"  He hurried on, seeing her mouth opening to argue this point.  "I mean it was solved in less than a _week_.  Scully, do you really think I was the _only_ person cut out to do that?  A wanted fugitive _five_ years out of practice with profiling and investigation?  It doesn't really add up to me."

Scully fought the urge to point out that Mulder had been doing nothing _but_ amateur investigations for the last three years.  She knew that pointing out this little fact wouldn't be seen as helpful.

"Mulder, it was an X-File," Scully tried to reason the point, distantly wondering when she'd last said the words _X-File_.  "I don't see that it's much of a stretch that the FBI weighed the options of hunting you on baseless murder charges when they could bring you in to do something useful.  Someone obviously did the math and realized it made sense to bring you in for consult."  

She'd known.  She'd  _known_ this conversation was coming.  Mulder had waited until everything had calmed down at work, when her work with Christian Fearon had drawn to a close before breaching this topic with her.  She felt a brief flash of irritation that he'd waited until she could put all of her attention on him.  But another part of her was grateful that he had held restraint, waited for her to be ready.  Restraint never had been Mulder's strong suit when it came to pursuing the truth.

She pushed herself off of Mulder's shoulder, shifting the cushions around so she could lean up against the side of the bench rather than the back.  At this angle, she could look into Mulder's face.  Stretching out sideways, she pushed her feet into the side of his thigh and he absentmindedly brought his free hand down and stroked her legs through the sleeping bag as he contemplated her words.

"It's still pretty weak," He murmured in reply.  He was silent a moment, working out his thoughts as he looked over at her.  "Actually, it's _very_ weak, Scully.   After all these years,  _this_  was the case that made them decide to forgive and forget?  I mean, other than Father Joe's connection to the case, what was really paranormal about the rest of it?  It would have barely even registered as an X-File by our standards."

 "A psychic would have _barely registered_ as an X-File?" Scully was skeptical of this logic and she heard the irritation in her voice.  "A pedophile priest who's psychic connection to the case was one of his child victims?  Mulder, that's the very definition of an X-File."

"All I did was _listen_ to the guy!" Mulder exclaimed, throwing out his hands.  Scully watched the wine slosh around in his cup and reached out to still his hand.  He looked down at her hand on his arm, then over at her before continuing.  "There were at least some people at the FBI who obviously thought he was a credible source.  If they were consulting me about it, they already believed that man had something to contribute even if it was only because they were getting desperate.  So if he was already believed, then what did they need me for?  Scully, anyone else could have sat down with him and learned what I learned.  Anyone else could have taken him out to the crime scenes to see what he knew."  He took another sip of his wine, returning his other hand to her leg.  "It's all too convenient, and if you ask me, a very thinly veiled excuse for forgiving me of all my crimes."

"Well what are you suggesting then, Mulder?" Scully sat up straight, her piqued irritation evolving into full blown exasperation.  "You aren't seriously suggesting that you believe somebody orchestrated this whole case just so they could find an excuse to get you back into the FBI.  Mulder that's paranoid, even for you."  

"No, Scully, I agree the case was legitimate, not orchestrated." Mulder's tone was surprisingly calm.  His voice was thoughtful, as though he was still puzzling something out in his own mind.  "But if you really think about the facts, I know for certain any open minded agent, like Agent Reyes, or even Agent Doggett could have puzzled this out.  Why did they need me?  Especially when I was so far from reach?"

They were silent.  Scully sat slowly back into the bench and turned her eyes away from Mulder.  She looked past the fire in front of them and peered into the dark forest.  The pleasantly mulled feeling from the wine had dissipated with their discussion, replaced by the familiar pairing of exhilaration and frustration that came from arguing with Mulder.  It felt strange, foreign this time.  

Not that they didn't argue now.  They argued all the time, about basic things,  _why did you forget to buy eggs when I asked you to,_ or  _You told me you'd be home at seven and now it's eleven._  They also argued about ideas, concepts, even old cases, sometimes ad nauseam.  In fact, they often followed the same patterns they'd had for years.  It was engaging and frustrating at times, and it was  _fun_.  But tonight they weren't arguing over dishes, philosophy or the distant past.  They were arguing about _now_.  And Mulder was trying to twist a simple case and chance at freedom into another conspiracy, one that he was conveniently at the centre of. 

It had been a source of extreme pride for Scully that Mulder could still come into a case after all these years, and solve it all when no one else could.  He had been forced to stay underground for so long.  He had remained surprisingly resilient during his seclusion, always appeared cheerful and content in their life together.  She went to work and he took care of their home, all the while continuing his quest for answers and the paranormal, this time in a strictly research capacity.  But she had missed seeing him in his element.  The way he'd been during that week had reminded her of how he had been during their partnership.  How _they_ had been.  Not to mention that they were now _free_ because of it.  No more hiding, no criminal record, the FBI had set everything right, wiped the slate clean.  She'd almost cried the other day when Mulder's passport had arrived in the mail.  They could travel anywhere they wanted in the world.  And he could  _work_ again.  It was such an exciting opportunity for a new chapter in their life.  And all because he had solved the case, when no one else could.

The case had been heavy.  It had been difficult to go into that world of murder and darkness again, see those horrific experiments, bringing that defrocked priest so deeply into her life.  Scully didn't know if she could stomach it as well as she used to.  And it had been risky.  An agent had died in the line of duty;  _Mulder_ had almost died.  She winced, thinking how close she had come to losing him to that senseless case.  Now though, she forced herself to push all that aside and look at it objectively.  And she slowly began to realize that Mulder had a point.  That Mulder was open to any and every paranormal explanation was without question.  But his greatest success, what really made him a great investigator, wasn't only his belief.  It was the way he could channel that belief and make extraordinary leaps of logic.  HIs ability to make connections between seemingly unrelated clues was unlike anything she'd ever seen.  He outshone all other agents she'd ever worked at.  And he was right.  His intuition had no bearing on solving this case.

She hadn't wanted to look at that miracle so closely.  But now that she did, she knew Mulder was right.  It wasn't an X-file, or if it was, it wasn't a very good one.  And accepting Mulder's point that the FBI believed the information from Father Joe, which they obviously had, it stood then to reason that any well trained, seasoned Agent should have been able to solve it.  Her heart turned to ice as the implications of this realization crept over her.

She watched as Mulder reached down and added another log to the fire.  The pile of wood was large.   _He must have chopped wood earlier today,_ Scully thought distractedly, picturing him doing just that.  He grabbed his makeshift poker stick and stoked around in the bit until the flames began to blaze once more.  Satisfied, he sat back and she put her ankles back on his lap while he picked up his wine glass. She watched the way the flames danced over his face, casting shadows back and forth as they moved.  He was still beautiful, even after all this time.  Every day she saw him, every night he was in their bed, and yet there were moments when he could still take her back to those first days and their first case in Oregon.  Everything about Agent Fox Mulder had screamed  _excitement, adventure_ to a young Dana Scully.  She figured out early on that she would follow him through anything.  She'd never been able to resist, right from the beginning.  

She still wasn't, she was slowly realizing.

Mulder sat his glass down and looked over at her.  His face was serious, as though he was aware that this time, he was forcing her to follow him somewhere he knew she didn't want to go.  But his next words didn't surprise her as he may have thought they did.

"I think that something has _changed_ Scully."  His voice was hoarse.  "Something big.  But I don't know what.  I think either something is actually different, or someone important has learned about colonization, and that someone wants to bring us back in.  That we're needed somehow.  I think  _that's_ why I'm a free man now, Scully."  

The silence stretched out.  Scully bit her lip and looked away.   _Colonization._ It had been ages since either of them had breathed that word.  She suppressed a shudder that had nothing to do with the cold.  The knowledge had hovered over them for years but as Mulder's constant research and few connections had uncovered no further leads since their escape, Scully had found herself becoming lulled into the normalcy of their life.  She'd allowed herself to believe that simply because they weren't privy to the knowledge anymore, the threat had dissipated.  

Her knee jerk reaction was that she wanted to argue with him.  She wanted to outline all the reasons his ideas sounded insane.  Of course there was no conspiracy anymore.  How could they have been left alone in peace all this time if there had been a conspiracy?  The FBI had made no attempts to apprehend him during the time they had been here, despite the fact they could have gotten to him any time, through her.  

 _Dr. Dana Scully of Our Lady of Sorrows hospital_.  Hardly a cover.  Scully recalled when she had started working there, once again a lowly resident, specializing in paediatrics.  She had been so scared to start that job in her own name, terrified that by doing so, someone would come and take Mulder away, or worse, use her to draw him out and surrender.  But they had needed the money and she had to work, so she did.  The months, and then the years passed and they hadn't had any trouble.  Nothing so much as a pull over by the police.  The logical conclusion was that there couldn't be any real danger then.  The consortium was dead, had been for years.  There was no threat, colonization wasn't happening.  Scully wanted so badly to take it all at face value.  The FBI had just wanted Mulder for a case and simply offered a good deal in return for his service.  Now they were finished and could go their own way.  All was right with the world. 

She could say all these things, argue them out loud.  They made sense and saying them out loud would have made them even more true.  Mulder might not even have the strength to argue with her tonight.  Yet inside of her, a small intuition was growing.  An intuition that had been growing for some time now, even before tonight.  Mulder was right. it _didn't_ add up.  

She glanced up at Mulder.  He wasn't looking expectingly at her anymore, but staring into the fire again, wine at his lips.  He didn't seem to require a reply, which was lucky because despite the thoughts swirling around in her head, she didn't feel ready to give one.  Not yet.

"You know Mulder," She murmured after a while.  "Earlier, I was thinking about you and me being out here, in the cold.  I know we couldn't be further from it, but for some reason it reminded me of one of our cases together."  Mulder looked at her and smiled wryly.

"That's funny Scully, because earlier, _I_ was thinking about being out here in the cold with you.  And I was thinking the exact opposite."  Scully glanced up at him in surprise, and then smiled widely.   _Of course he was._

 _"_ Scully, being here with you, out here, like this?  This is so much better than all of our cases combined."  He pulled off his mitten and reached over to stroke her cheek.  "After all we've done and seen, all we've lost, and we never lost _this._   For me, these are the moments that made the work worth it.  These are the moments I live for."  He reached out for her hair peaking out of her hat, and twirled a long strand around his fingers.  

For a long time after they had run away, Scully had dyed her hair dark in hotel sinks and cropped it short to her head.  When they'd finally settled down in Virginia and she got the job at the hospital, one of the first things Scully did was go to a salon and get her hair coloured back to her usual auburn.  It felt like taking a small part of her old life back, a little act of rebellion.  Then, she'd started growing it out and never stopped.  In the last six months, it had become longer than she'd had it her whole life, much longer than Mulder had ever seen it.  Scully had always kept her hair short.  As a tomboy, medical student, and FBI agent, short hair was sensible.  Now, in her own home and a stable life with the man she loved, she indulged herself with this small expression of femininity.  And although Mulder never said it out loud, he touched her hair so often, ran his fingers through it at night on the couch or in bed, she knew he loved the change.

On some level, Scully had known from the moment the FBI approached her that day in the hospital that the fragile life her and Mulder had built here was going to change inexorably.  She'd fought it so hard, tried to manipulate Mulder out of it by threatening to leave.  She cringed inwardly to think that she'd sunk to holding that over him, asking him to choose between her and a case.  Their life together had always been partly about work.  She was glad he'd known her well enough to wait out that threat, knowing it was baseless even when she didn't.

She felt she was facing a truth she had hidden from herself for years.  The truth was, that their home here, their life here, beautiful as it was had only ever been a way station.  

So Scully had mourned the loss of her job, the house, their life, the way it was now.  And now, looking at Mulder doing something so benign as running his hands through her hair, she realized for the first time that he had been mourning the same things. 

Because Mulder knew what she also knew.  They weren't meant for this life.  As attractive as it was, they would only be able to return to it when their work was done.

That there was a conspiracy to be stopped.  And somewhere out there in the unknown, was their son.  He played a role yet to be known.  And he needed them for whenever that time came.  She knew that, and she knew they wouldn't let him down.

Scully's breath hitched as the enormity of their discussion washed over her.  Mulder tipped her chin so she looked him in the eyes and he nodded back at her.  And she saw the same fears in his eyes.  But she knew it was right.

"If I quit Scully, they win," Mulder whispered.

"If _we_ quit, they win." She gently corrected him.  The joy in his face was something to behold.  For all that lay ahead, she would never forget his face when he knew they would face it together as they always had.  He leaned forward and pressed his lips into hers, a sealing of their vows to each other.  A renewal.  After pulling apart, Mulder cleared his throat. 

"Work tomorrow, Dr. Scully.  You should be in bed."  He said after a few charged moments, diffusing the atmosphere.  She relaxed, knowing the discussion was over and that they understood what had been said, as well as what hadn't.  She loved that about them.

"Work tomorrow, vacation on Friday." Scully smiled. She sniffled one last time and rubbed at the lingering tears in her eyes.  There was peace in a decision made.

He made a soft groan of pleasure.  "Vacation.  Can you believe it?  We deserve this, Scully."

"More than ever."  She reached over and gave him another quick kiss on the lips before moving the sleeping bag off her feet to get up.

Standing up, Scully couldn't suppress a giggle, surprised at her slight unbalance.  She knew she might pay for the three glasses of wine in the morning.  Mulder reached out a steadying hand to her elbow and grinned at her.  She gathered up the sleeping bag and the now empty bottle of wine as Mulder scooped up snow to extinguish the fire.  His arm draped loosely over her shoulder as they walked back to their beloved home.

Tomorrow was a new day.  And she had a discussion to be had with Father Ybarra.

The future would come when it was ready to.  And they would stand up and answer it.


End file.
